


Look Out, Look Out

by bloo_balloon



Series: Lust for Life [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, But it’s not from NCT so it’s all Gucci, Chenhyuck and Jihyuck if you squint, Dubious Morality, Forced Prostitution, Johnny is only mentioned - Freeform, Lucas shows up for like a microsecond, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Slightly Graphic Torture, The Dreamies are gonna suffer in this ngl, The relationships aren’t the focal point tho, especially donghyuck, mafia, mentions of rape/non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 19:16:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloo_balloon/pseuds/bloo_balloon
Summary: Kun should be happy that he got out.He should be content with his new life.But he’s not.He misses *it* too much and he wants back in.Who would’ve thought that his way back in would be getting hired by two vengeful teenagers whose only wish is to see their kidnapped friend again?Now, if only the ghost of his brother would stop haunting his thoughts.





	Look Out, Look Out

**Author's Note:**

> I have an exam next week, but I wanted to post this before I retreat into my cave to revise. Wish me luck! >_<
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. This is loosely tied to part 2 of the series, but it’s not necessary to read it beforehand. And if you still wanna check out part 2, I won’t complain. ;)

Seasalt, sweltering heat on an empty beach, fire and smoke that chokes him, the faces of his dear parents, distorted by crimson dripping into his eyes, blurry and horrid. Lifeless.  
  
They never find his brother’s body at the crash site.  
  
He doesn’t stop crying even as he is being brought onto the rescue boat. He feels like he won’t ever stop crying.  
  
~~~  
  
He goes from orphanage to orphanage, from foster family to foster family until he can’t take it anymore. It wasn’t real love, not like how his parents and brother had loved him. It was all one big fat lie and no matter how many times his new foster parents would try to fill in the void left by his real ones with forced affection and gifts he didn’t care for, it was all the same. Fake and strained and sickening.  
  
He saves enough money for a bus ride to Shanghai and runs away in the middle of the night at fourteen years old.  
  
~~~  
  
He’s sixteen now, in a foreign country with only a few hundred yuan to his name. He barely understands the language and people regard him with disdain wherever he goes. ‘You’ll never amount to anything, boy,’ they all tell him. ‘You’ll find your end on these streets, just like a filthy stray.’  
  
He doesn’t. Two days later he kills for the first time.  
  
~~~  
  
He makes a name for himself and gets entangled with all the wrong people, lured in by the mirage of money and notoriety. Taking lives is all he’ll ever be good at, he thinks sullenly. Might as well put his skills to good use.  
  
He looks up at the sky and he knows his parents could never be proud of what he’s become.  
  
~~~  
  
He likes playing God. He likes the thrill and the power that comes with being able to hold the lives of his victims in the palm of his hand. He can make it look like anything he wants to; an unfortunate car crash, suicide, carbon monoxide poisoning from a fireplace left unattended. He’s no judge or jury. He’s the ruthless executioner.  
  
He likes playing God, but soon enough he realizes that it’s so much easier living in the service of others. And that is when Kim Doyoung becomes his God and he, his angel of death.  
  
That is when he becomes The Candyman.  
  
~~~  
  
‘The Candyman is a myth,’ the non believers would say with a scoff. No one has ever seen him, and those who’ve tried to uncover his identity were soon met with dead ends and brick walls too tall to climb. It was a wild goose chase, but while it was happening, the bodies kept rapidly piling and the bosses were starting to get antsy to the point of paranoia. They were all walking on a tightrope with no safety net to catch them when they fall. And it was only a matter of time before they did.  
  
‘The Candyman is a myth,’ they’d keep enforcing, but really no one felt safe anymore.  
  
And while The Candyman, the hitman with no apparent allegiance, was nothing more than a legend bathed in blood, Qian Kun, the kind florist with a heart of gold was as real as he could be.  
  
Only the Kims knew the two were one and the same.  
  
~~~  
  
When Doyoung goes to prison, Jungwoo is the one to tell him the news.  
  
“You either stay loyal to him and wait for his return or try to build a life of your own,” Jungwoo says solemnly and Kun is mildly disturbed. He’s never seen Jungwoo so vulnerable, so distraught.  
  
He can’t believe his ears. “You’re giving me a choice?”  
  
“You may have been Doyoung’s bloodhound,” Jungwoo says. “But you are _my_ _friend_ , Kun. And as your friend, I’m giving you a way out.”  
  
He’s lived and breathed and killed for Doyoung for so long he doesn’t know if he’ll remember how to do so for himself. And while the thought is frightening, he can’t deny he craves freedom. He won’t ever have his redemption, that he is certain of, but he can get back his freedom.  
  
He nods. “Alright. I’ll take you up on that offer.”  
  
Jungwoo lets out a sigh, whether of anguish or relief he can’t tell. “Good. I was counting on that.”  
  
~~~  
  
The first few months are awful.  
  
He settles into a sort of routine; wake up, go to work then home again with little to no variation. He cooks for himself, goes grocery shopping, hits the gym every once in a while, stocks up on flowers whenever he needs to and is an all around ordinary man with a normal job and few human connections to speak of.  
  
Jungwoo comes to his shop from time to time to chat and always leaves with the same thing; a bouquet of orange tulips. Kun doubts they’ll let Doyoung keep the flowers, but he admires Jungwoo’s unflinching devotion and love.  
  
Aside from Jungwoo’s visits which are few and far between, life is boring and time passes excruciatingly slow.  
  
Sometimes he thinks about what life would’ve been like if he’d chosen to stay. Would he still be doing the Kims’ dirty work even in Doyoung’s absence? Would he still feel the rush, just like he’d felt it the first time he took a life?  
  
He dreads the answer to both questions.  
  
~~~  
  
It’s been almost a year since his last job.  
  
Every night before bed, he sifts through the box of equipment that he keeps hidden at home and every night his hands tremble when he grabs his trusty S&W revolver and closes his eyes, imagining what it’d feel like to fire it again. He squeezes the trigger, but the bland ‘click’ can’t even begin to compare to a real bullet.  
  
He doesn’t let his mind stray too far though, he won’t allow it. He slams the box shut with too much force than strictly necessary, stashes it away underneath the floorboards and goes to his moderately sized kitchen to make coffee.  
  
If he adds a dash of rum to it from time to time, nobody needs to know.  
  
~~~  
  
Late one night, he finds himself on Jungwoo’s doorstep, drunk out of his mind, with his knuckles raised, ready to knock.  
  
Is ‘take me back’ the right thing to say when - _if_ \- Jungwoo answers? He looks pitiful and broken and he’s way too intoxicated to be taken seriously. He’d be sent home with a slammed door to the face and Jungwoo would stop visiting him and stop buying orange tulips from his shop. He’s already lost too much. He can’t lose Jungwoo’s friendship as well.  
  
He turns around and leaves.  
  
~~~  
  
He gets a new regular which is a nice change of pace.  
  
Jisung is his name and he can’t be older than eighteen. He’s a sweet kid, a bit shy considering how he stumbles into Kun’s shop the first time around and with blushing cheeks asks for a single white chrysanthemum.  
  
“For a friend,” he explains quite unnecessarily and Kun laughs.  
  
When Jisung’s blush goes an even deeper shade of red, Kun is quick to reassure him. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to judge.”  
  
He chooses one of the prettiest chrysanthemums he currently has in stock and gives it to Jisung with a big grin. “On the house.”  
  
And Jisung bows and thanks him before exiting the shop with a spring in his step.  
  
~~~  
  
Every week Jisung comes into the shop and every week he buys a different type of flower. They make small talk now and Jisung no longer trips over his words when he asks for a new flower for his mystery ‘friend’.  
  
“He’s very special to me,” he tells Kun one day. Somehow Kun knows it’s more than that but he doesn’t call him out on it. Young love is a delicate thing. Much like the flowers he sells.  
  
One day Jisung asks for a red rose and Kun smiles knowingly as he hands him the flower. “On the house.”  
  
~~~  
  
Almost two years have passed ever since he’d left his old life behind, but the uneasiness has never really subsided.  
  
He tries to occupy his mind with his job and every menial task in the history of mankind, just to keep a clear head and not be reminded of what he’d walked away from.  
  
He thinks of his brother more often these days and it’s strange. He’s never quite forgotten him, but he’s never been at the forefront of his thoughts so much before.  
  
He thinks of the sea, menacing and unforgiving and wonders if Renjun rests somewhere at the bottom where there is no light and no hope.  
  
He barely keeps the tears at bay as he falls asleep.  
  
He hasn’t felt the urge to cry in a very long time, but maybe that’s just the loneliness finally catching up with him.  
  
~~~  
  
It’s a few days later that he gets a letter in his mailbox, one that makes his heart drop through the floor.  
  
On the envelope, in neat Latin cursive, there are two words staring back at him, words that make him sick to his stomach.  
  
_Dear Candyman_ _  
_  
He tears it open as fast as he can and unfolds the white piece of paper, nearly dropping it in his haste.  
  
_I apologise if I might inconvenience you, knowing that you’ve been out of the business for quite some time, but I am very much interested in the services you provide._ _  
__  
__I’ve studied you closely for the past six months and I couldn’t help but notice the distant look in your eye. Almost melancholic, if you will. You’ve surrounded yourself with the mundane, built a - decidedly boring - life of your own, and yet you still look unhappy and distraught. I wondered what that was all about, but in the end I could only come to one simple conclusion._ _  
__  
__You miss it, don’t you?_ _  
__  
__Well, I am confident in your skills, Mr. Candyman. So much so that I would like to hire you. Money is not an issue so whatever the price, I shall pay._ _  
__  
__And before you crumple this letter and throw it in the trash, you should know that I’m not entirely keen on taking no for an answer. That boy who keeps coming to your shop? Park Jisung, I believe he is called. You’ve grown quite attached to him, haven’t you? If you want him to live another day, you’ll come to the address on the back of this letter tomorrow at 9 o’clock in the evening._ _  
__  
__I’ll be expecting you._ _  
__  
__—C_ _  
_  
~~~  
  
The address provided is an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Seoul, where most of the streetlamps aren’t working and every other wall is sprayed full of graffiti. It’s the kind of place you shouldn’t venture into past sunset.  
  
He brings his gun and a small switchblade knife as a precaution, but he keeps telling himself he won’t use them unless it’s absolutely necessary to defend himself. He didn’t come to fight, he came to prevent an unnecessary death.  
  
Jisung is there and at first glance he looks unharmed. His hands are tied to the back of the chair he is sat on, but otherwise he doesn’t look like he’s sporting any injuries.  
  
“Are you okay?” he asks once he is within earshot.  
  
“I’m- I’m fine, but I’m sorry! It was, it was his idea!” Jisung stammers.  
  
Another figure steps out of the shadows with measured footfalls, hands raised in a placating manner, and stops next to Jisung.  
  
“Now that you’re here, we can get down to business,” the newcomer says as ways of greeting. He pulls out a small camping knife from his coat pocket and at first Kun tenses, reaching down for his gun, but the only thing the unknown man does is tear Jisung’s bounds to set him free, then pockets the knife once again.

  
It doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s been had.  
  
“You tricked me,” Kun states calmly, fists clenching at his sides. He looks from Jisung to the other man, the one he assumes is the mysterious C. “Care to explain why I’m here?”  
  
“I didn’t-“  
  
“Be quiet, Jisungie.” C cuts in, placing a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder. “We had to get your attention somehow, Mr. Candyman. Jisung was just playing his part. If there’s anyone to blame, blame me.”  
  
The thought that Jisung had been pretending all along hurts just a little more than he’d care to admit. C had been right on that account. He did get attached to Jisung. Otherwise he wouldn’t be there in the first place.  
  
“I have to say,” C continues, “the flowers were really pretty so thank you for that.”  
  
Ah. So Jisung’s mystery ‘friend’ is his potential contractor? Kun gives a disbelieving laugh. “Thank your boyfriend for getting them for you every week.”  
  
If the circumstances were different, he’d find it endearing how C’s cheeks go red at that, how he averts his eyes in embarrassment. As much as he tried to act way beyond his age, C was still pretty much just a kid.

  
“Well done. You got my attention,” Kun says dryly. “If that’s all, I’d better be going. It isn’t safe in this part of town at night so I’d suggest you guys go home as well.”  
  
“I wasn’t joking!” C protests loudly. “I do want to hire you.”  
  
“Even if you do,” Kun laughs, turning on his heel, facing towards the exit. He looks over his shoulder at the two teens. “One, I’m retired and two, I’m probably way over your budget anyway.”  
  
“Thirty million won,” C pleads. “Think about it!”  
  
Tempting as it may be, he’s not really in need of cash and he still doesn’t know if going out of retirement is the right thing to do. Plus, doing business with someone who’s not even of legal age yet could pose many problems.  
  
Still, he can’t help but ask. “Who hurt you so badly that you’re willing to seek out a hitman for revenge? You went out of your way to get me in this dumpster of a place, knowing full well how horribly _wrong_ this could end and yet you still insist on it, even after I told you I’m not interested.”  
  
“I’m not telling you shit unless you accept my offer,” C snaps.

  
“Then we have no deal,” Kun shrugs disinterestedly. “Goodbye.”  
  
“Wait!” Jisung’s voice echoes. The contrast between the two teens is almost comical now that Jisung is standing up from where he’d previously been bound to the chair. On the one hand, there’s tall, lanky Jisung who looks just about ready to cry, and on the other hand there’s the much shorter and much angrier C. “It’s about Dal Yong Pa.”  
  
And that definitely gets Kun’s attention.  
  
~~~  
  
Dal Yong Pa have always been a thorn in Doyoung’s side, but even with all his efforts he still couldn’t get rid of them for good before going to prison. From what little Jungwoo has told him, he deduced that one of their men is the reason Doyoung got arrested in the first place.  
  
And it’s not Kun’s unflinching loyalty to Doyoung that makes him reconsider his options, but rather the boys’ history with Dal Yong Pa.  
  
He learns that C is actually called Chenle and that he and Jisung used to run drugs for Dal Yong Pa up until last year when things took a turn for the worst.  
  
“We knew they were doing some shady stuff on the side, but we never found out until then,” Chenle explains. “We had a friend, a boy named Donghyuck who was just as desperate for cash as we were. But Donghyuck was smart and unlike us, he couldn’t be swayed into joining a gang, much less one as nasty as Dal Yong Pa. He preferred to do odd jobs here and there in exchange for food and was content living under the stars on the old, ratty mattress that he used to carry around Gaehwa-dong. We got him clothes and food too sometimes, but more often than not, he refused them. ‘Those were bought with dirty money,’ he used to say, and then he‘d go back to doing his own thing. Sure, it wasn’t ideal, but at least we got each other’s backs.  
  
“But then last year...” he trails off, swallowing thickly. From the corner of his eye Kun sees that Jisung isn’t faring any better. He’s as pale as a ghost and his posture is stiff, hands clenched together on his lap. “Last year Donghyuck got into a fight with some Dal Yong Pa goons. He gouged out one bastard’s eye and really messed up the other, but he barely got away with his life himself. Going to the hospital was out of the question so Donghyuck came to us, stayed with us until he was back on his feet and the next thing we know, he was out on the streets again. We begged him to stay, but he was adamant about it. He felt like he was taking advantage of us. Said he didn’t want to be a freeloader.  
  
“The thing is, Jisung and I knew those assholes would be back before long. Hyuckie fucked them up pretty badly so we knew they’d come look for him to settle the score. And when they did...”  
  
“We watched them take him away,” Jisung takes over, slinging his arm around Chenle’s shoulders. It doesn’t provide much comfort. Chenle is shaking like a leaf, trying as hard as he can to keep the tears from falling. It reminds Kun of a younger version of himself. “We thought they’d kill him on the spot, but what they did to him was worse than death.”  
  
And Chenle cries. He lets everything out, tears streaming down his cheeks, sobs ripping out of his chest. He clutches onto Jisung’s shirt for dear life as he wails.  
  
Kun knows it’s more than sadness for his friend’s predicament that Chenle feels. There’s also anger; boiling, simmering, waiting to explode.  
  
“I was sent to a brothel with a delivery. Heroin, about half a kilo if I recall correctly,” Chenle rasps, wiping furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand. “And that’s where I saw him... For the first time in weeks, I finally saw Hyuckie. And he was... _shit_ , he was so fucked up I barely recognized him.”  
  
“That’s enough,” Kun says softly. “You don’t need to force yourself to-“  
  
“Bae Yunhee and Nam Jiwon,” Chenle cuts in quietly. It’s a frightening contrast to how he was crying mere moments ago. His voice cuts like steel and his eyes burn with a deep-seated hatred. “She’s the one who runs the brothel and he’s the one who took Donghyuck from us. And I want them to pay.”  
  
~~~  
  
“Where did you even get this money?”  
  
“Drug money. Stolen from Dal Yong Pa.”  
  
“Well fuck.”  
  
~~~  
  
It takes about a week to scout out the area and another to hatch a plan with the least amount of possibilities to get them killed.  
  
Nam Jiwon has made quite a name for himself around Yangcheon-gu. He thinks he’s tough shit just because he’s got Dal Yong Pa higher ups backing him up when in reality he’s as disposable as a paper bag. He’s raped and killed and mauled and has evaded the law for much too long to go unpunished. He’s arrogant to the point of stupidity and usually surrounds himself with brown nosers of the same mentality. It only makes Kun’s job easier.  
  
With the brothel it’s a bit trickier because the security is tight. It’s a big source of income for Dal Yong Pa so they have to protect their ‘goods’.  
  
He poses as a customer and asks for Donghyuck, or Haechan as he is referred to around the brothel. He demands to talk directly to Bae Yunhee and settles for buying Donghyuck’s services for four nights in a row, paying all money in advance.  
  
It’s awful how he finds Donghyuck, gaunt and pale, dressed in a blue silk robe that barely reaches his knees and nothing else. He’s spread out on the leather loveseat, puffing from an imported bamboo kiseru, watching disinterestedly as the smoke rises and disappears before reaching the tall ceiling.  
  
“Did they give you sugar for me?” he asks upon seeing Kun’s frame in the doorway. He only spares him a glance and then he’s back to staring at the rapidly rising smoke with glossy eyes.  
  
“They didn’t,” he answers and closes the door behind him. “May I sit, Donghyuck?”  
  
“Donghyuck?” he giggles, blowing a stream of smoke through his nose.  “Haven’t been called that in quite a while. But you don’t care about that, do you? You’re only here to get a warm hole to fill. Just like the rest of them.”  
  
There’s barely any trace left of how Jisung and Chenle had described Donghyuck to him. Gone is the playful twinkle in his eye, gone is the healthy glow of his skin and the no nonsense attitude. He’s just a shell of his former self.  
  
“You may sit, I guess.” And Kun does. He takes a seat on the floor, a ways away from the loveseat. He pulls his knees to his chest and waits.  
  
The track marks on Donghyuck’s arms are fresh, tiny red prickles dotted along bruised skin.  
  
“If they didn’t give you any sugar, then let’s just get to it,” Donghyuck says after a while. He sets the pipe down and reaches around his waist to pull the robe loose.  
  
“You won’t be needing to do that tonight.”  
  
Donghyuck looks at him as if he’d grown another head. He drops his hands on his lap and folds them together. Kun notes how badly they are shaking. “Madame B won’t be pleased.”  
  
“Madame B can go screw herself,” Kun says forcefully. Then his tone softens when he addresses Donghyuck again. “It’s my time and my money and if all I want to do is chat, then that’s what we’re going to do.”  
  
And Donghyuck only nods.  
  
~~~  
  
The following night, Kun gets to do some snooping before going up to Donghyuck’s room and finds documents detailing the purchase of another shipment. Both girls and boys, aged fourteen to nineteen.  
  
He almost screws up the plan, almost slits Yunhee’s throat when he sees her at the foot of the stairs, bowing to him with a small smile gracing her delicate features.  
  
“Give this to Haechan,” she says, handing him a small prefilled syringe. “He’ll know what to do.”  
  
When Yunhee is out of sight, he throws the syringe out the window and climbs up the stairs to Donghyuck’s room, gripping his switchblade so tightly his knuckles go white.  
  
~~~  
  
“What’s up with you?” Donghyuck asks him on the third night. He’s smoking again, but his eyes aren’t glazed over this time around. He doesn’t look healthy per se, but it’s an improvement to how Kun found him the first night. “You paid a boatload of money for me, four times in a row may I add, and you just want to talk? I don’t get you.”  
  
“It’s alright. Many people don’t get me.”  
  
“Say, have you ever heard of the Candyman, Kun-ssi?”  
  
The sudden question takes him aback. “Who hasn’t in this city?”  
  
Donghyuck laughs mirthlessly. “I wonder who he is.”  
  
Kun glances out the window, where up in the sky, the moon shines in all its glory, keeping watch over them all until the sun takes over once again. He smiles sadly. “I do too, sometimes.”  
  
That night Donghyuck falls asleep humming an old American song.  
  
  
  
_Going to leave this brokedown palace,_ _  
_ _  
_ _On my hands and my knees, I will roll, roll, roll_ _  
_  
~~~  
  
“Hello? Xuxi?”  
  
“ _Kun-ge! How are you_?”  
  
“I’m good actually. Been thinking about going back to work one of these days.”  
  
“ _Well, I’ll be! Never thought I’d hear you saying that. Like never_ ever.”  
  
“Yeah, about that... I need a favor.”  
  
~~~  
  
On the fourth day at noon he makes his move against Nam Jiwon.  
  
It’s a blessing how he’s found this place on such short notice. A dirty basement, previously used as a studio, right up until the mold and dampness in the air became too much and the band had to vacate the premises, leaving behind enough soundproof panels for Kun to use for his impromptu torture chamber. He buys plastic foil, rope and gloves and brings his box of tools along for the ride.  
  
Getting Jiwon there is child’s play. A big dose of tranquilizer straight through the jugular and he is unconscious in seconds.  
  
When he is done setting up, he checks the time. Four more hours until he has to be at the brothel for phase two of the plan. More than enough to get it out of his system.  
  
And just like clockwork, Jiwon decides to wake up. He blinks up at the ceiling and when he feels that his movements are restrained, he starts thrashing and twisting on the table he is bound to.  
  
“The fuck is this?” he screams. “Let me go!”  
  
“I’m afraid you don’t get to make demands of me, Mr. Nam,” Kun says conversationally, leaning against the wall closest to Jiwon’s head, where he can see Kun.  
  
“Who the hell are you?!”  
  
“Me? I’m just a nobody, really,” he chuckles. “I used to be a pretty big deal, if I do say so myself. But I go away for two years and _this_ is what I come back to?”  
  
“I don’t need no life story of yours, you fucker!” Jiwon screams at the top of his lungs, straining against his binds until his wrists are an angry shade of red. “What do you want with me? If it’s money that you want, I can give you lots of it. Just let me go!”  
  
He’s already starting to get light headed with the rush, his mind urging him to get on with it, to stab the knife he’s been twirling in his hands ever since Jiwon woke up straight through the bastard’s heart. He closes his eyes and wills his hands to stop shaking on the handle of the blade. He won’t grant Nam Jiwon a swift end. He isn’t worthy of one.  
  
“Say, have you heard of death by division?” Kun asks over Jiwon’s shrieks. It’s very satisfying how Jiwon’s cheeks seem to instantly drain of color.  
  
“What- what are you-?”  
  
“It’s a variant of what is called _Lingchi_ in my home country,” Kun explains with a grin. “I only ever read of it. Heard it’s very, very, _very_ painful.”  
  
“You’re sick!”  
  
“I’m not the one who rapes kids as a show of force, Mr. Nam.”  
  
“How do you-“  
  
“Oh, didn’t I tell you I used to be a big deal around these parts of the city? I can find out virtually anything if I so desire to.”  
  
He gives Jiwon another injection. “It’s a neat concoction a good friend of mine came up with. It acts as a muscle relaxant, but with a catch,” Kun says giddily, as if he’s telling a secret to an overexcited child. “You won’t be able to move, but you’ll feel everything tenfold.”  
  
“You b-bast... ngh...”  
  
“Oh yeah! My friend told me you won’t be able to articulate much, but I have a theory you’ll be able to scream just fine.”  
  
To test it, he cuts out Jiwon’s upper eyelids with a rusty scalpel, then carves out his left eye with the tip of his blade, tearing through nerves and blood vessels like they are nothing.  
  
The screams are music to his ears.  
  
~~~  
  
He leaves the remains of Jiwon’s body on the border of Dal Yong Pa territory where they can be easily found, then heads to the brothel.  
  
~~~  
  
“We’re leaving tonight, Donghyuck,” Kun says, shortly after arriving.  
  
“We? I thought you were smarter than this, Kun-ssi,” Donghyuck snarks. “I’ll probably rot in here, along with all the other drugged out whores. Because that’s all we are in the end,” his tone softens a tad bit. “We may be called goods or money makers, but we’re really just Dal Yong Pa whores.”  
  
“What if I tell you you’ll get to see Jisung and Chenle again?”  
  
Donghyuck snorts. “That’s nothing more than a pipe dream. I was taken off the streets around… ten? No, eleven months ago. They’ve probably forgotten all about me and moved on with their lives as soon as I was out of the picture. As they should have.”  
  
“Defeatism doesn’t suit you, kid.”  
  
“I’m no kid,” Donghyuck argues.  
  
“Then listen to me,” Kun demands. “Do you really think Jisung and Chenle would just be sitting on their asses while you are in here going through hell?”  
  
Donghyuck is silent for a while as he mulls over Kun’s words, and when he replies it’s in a barely there whisper, as if speaking too loudly will take away the last glimmer of hope of ever seeing his friends again. “I-I guess they wouldn’t...”  
  
Bringing Donghyuck back to his former state is going to be hard, but the least Kun can do is reassure him that he’s got people waiting for him outside these bleak walls.  
  
~~~  
  
It’s not often that Kun can say he’d miscalculated, but somehow this is one of those times where he can safely say he’d miscalculated. Horribly so.

  
Yes, Bae Yunhee is dead and yes, all of the workers have been released and sent in pairs or groups of three to Kun’s available safehouses until further notice, but he’s caught off guard when a scantily clad young man lunges at him with a knife and almost knicks him in the eye. He pushes Donghyuck out of the way, catching the man’s hand in a tight grip and twisting it until he’s hissing in pain. Kun waits for the moment the blade slips from his fingers and knocks him unconscious with an elbow to the back of the head.  
  
Dal Yong Pa made their men pose as prostitutes just so they could keep a closer eye on the business, and damn if it wasn’t a clever idea.  
  
He motions for Donghyuck to follow him, just as two other goons spot them at the end of the third floor corridor and pull out their guns.  
  
They somehow get outside without getting injured, but that’s when it all goes to hell.  
  
Kun doesn’t expect to see Chenle and Jisung spring out from behind a nearby dumpster and envelop Donghyuck in a bone crushing hug.  
  
“Hyuckie!”  
  
“You‘re not supposed to be here, goddamnit!” Kun shouts over the conundrum. “We need to move. _Now_!”  
  
It all happens too fast. One moment Kun sees the man pointing his gun right at Jisung’s chest and the next he loses control of his body as he topples over from the impact of the bullet.  
  
“Kun-ssi!” That’s Donghyuck. It has to be Donghyuck because he’s the only one who addresses Kun so formally, but he sounds muffled, distant.  
  
Other voices join in, voices he feels like he’s heard before but he can’t quite place them. In the distance, he swears he can hear sirens too.  
  
With the last ounce of strength he can muster, Kun props himself up on one elbow just in time to catch a glimpse of the shooter before he can climb into the getaway car.  
  
And the shooter stares right back at him.  
  
He’d laugh if his body didn’t feel so heavy all of sudden. He sinks back to the ground and closes his eyes despite the noise, despite the shouting and the voices that keep begging him to stay awake.  
  
Maybe he’ll finally get his peace now.  
  
Maybe dying at the hands of a man who bears an eerie resemblance to his dead brother is the end that he rightfully deserves.  
  
~~~  
  
Kun wakes up to a white ceiling bathed in flickering hues of red and yellow, swirling together, then slowly changing into green and blue. He counts to thirty, eyes wide open and then inhales sharply through his nose. There’s a stable beeping coming from somewhere to his right, and out of the corner of his eye he sees an IV stand, but his vision is too blurry to actually read what is in the bag that’s hooked up to it. He wrestles with the comforter and tries to sit up only to be instantly pushed back onto the bed by a pair of strong hands.  
  
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  
  
That makes him immediately pause. He knows that voice all too well and the man attached to it is right there next to his bed, peering down at him with that unnerving stare of his.  
  
“Doyoung,” Kun mutters weakly, voice raspy from disuse. He coughs and it only makes everything hurt that much worse. “Where am I?”  
  
“Johnny’s clinic. You got shot in the chest during that stunt you pulled at Dal Yong Pa’s brothel.“  
  
His heart sinks. The memories, albeit a bit fuzzy, come back to him in flashes. “W-what about the kids? Are they alright?”  
  
Doyoung steps away, plopping back onto the chair at the foot of Kun’s bed. “You took the bullet that was meant for Jisung. Almost lost your life for it.”  
  
“I had to,” he says forcefully.  
  
“No, you didn’t.” Doyoung retorts. “You had no obligation to these kids, Kun. None at all.”  
  
And it’s true that he didn’t, but he won’t ever give Doyoung the satisfaction of admitting that outloud. He doesn’t need to have any obligations to someone to be a decent human being and do what’s right for once in his life. “I’m too high off whatever is being pumped into my body to have this conversation right now,” he grumbles stubbornly. That’s only partly true, but he’s tired and dizzy and entirely not up for an argument that can easily degenerate into a shouting match knowing Doyoung and his volatile personality.  
  
And to his surprise, Doyoung doesn’t press on. “Do you want to see them? They’ve been camping out in the hallway ever since you got out of surgery three days ago.”  
  
“Please send them in.”  
  
Doyoung turns to the door, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’ll go tell Johnny that you’re awake. If they’re being too rowdy just ask them to leave. They’ll understand.”  
  
“I’m fine, Doyoung. I’m sure I can manage.” He sinks back down onto his pillow. “And before you leave…”

  
“What is it?”  
  
“Thank you,” Kun says solemnly. “Knowing you, there’s a big chance you won’t believe me, but I mean it, Doyoung. Thank you,” he repeats.

  
Doyoung laughs sardonically. “Oh, I didn’t do shit. It’s all thanks to those three rascals and Johnny’s team that you’re alive at all.”  
  
And Kun knows that’s a lie, but Doyoung is out of the door before he can call him out on it.  
  
~~~

It turns out the colorful lights weren’t just a byproduct of his doped up mind, but actually came from a tiny artificial Christmas tree, courtesy of Jisung and Chenle.

“I like it,” he tells them and he means it. Maybe Christmas will finally start holding a deeper meaning than gifts and shiny decorations. Maybe Christmas really is a time of change and new beginnings.

“I wish Donghyuck could be here to see it,” Jisung says wistfully.

Kun learns that following that night’s events, Johnny was able to pull some strings and send Donghyuck to a rehabilitation center to get clean. They won’t be able to see him for the following months, but at least they know he is safe and on his way to getting better. Hopefully, he’ll be able to recover both physically and psychologically.

“I was so scared, Kun-ge,” Chenle tells him on the third day after he wakes up from his coma. The little rascal had taken to addressing Kun using Chinese honorifics. It reminds him of home and of his brother who’d always addressed him as such.

~~~

“Did you manage to get a good look at my shooter?” Kun asks.

Jisung shakes his head no, but Chenle stays silent as he ponders over Kun’s question. “I think I’ve seen him before. Back when we were still running drugs for Dal Yong Pa,” he says at last. “Why? Do you know him?”

“I might, I’m not sure yet.”

Jisung shifts in his seat, looking anywhere else but at Kun. “Isn’t it a bit too early for you to start plotting your revenge, hyung?” he asks in a small voice.

 _If my suspicions are confirmed, I might not even need to_ , Kun thinks.

He’s got time. He’ll get to the bottom of this.

One way or another.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you’re having a lovely day!
> 
> The lyrics mentioned are from Brokedown Palace by The Grateful Dead, the greatest band in the whole bigass universe. It always makes me tear up whenever I listen to it. Check it out if you want to.


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